


Boxed In

by emmyline



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, More demon x little boy ships, More oblivious Black Hat, Oblivious Flug, Seriously not again, Shipper Dementia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-11-05 20:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11021310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmyline/pseuds/emmyline
Summary: This was the last time he took Dementia's advice on anything ever, period.Or,Wherein a plan goes awry and Dr. Flug is trapped in an indestructible cage with Black Hat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Figured I'd hop on this bandwagon before it gets totally insane. Love these two already!

"Flug. Flug. Flug. Hey! Hey, Flug-bug? Heya, Flug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug~"

"Knock it off, Dementia!" The inventor in question swatted at her distractedly, sweating and poring over the blueprints on his desk.

She pouted. "C'mon, I've just got one itty bitty favor to ask you and I'm on my way."

"Seriously, Dementia, not now! I'm working under a very tight deadline. Literally." He lowered his voice to a gravelly baritone and scowled dramatically, shaking a fist. "'Doctor, if you mess this one up, the only thing under that idiotic bag will be a dead-eyed corpse'--ahem," his voice cracked. "I wasn't paraphrasing. He actually s-said that..."

Dementia rolled her mismatched eyes, apparently unimpressed.

"Pfft. Yeah, right. He said the same exact thing last week."

"He did, didn't he?" Flug mumbled morosely. For some reason, Black Hat had been harder on him over the past few months than ever. He'd even taken to seeking him out at random from across the labyrinthine mansion for the exact purpose of criticizing his every infinitesimal move, whether it be misplacing a pen, an untied shoelace, TAKING TOO LONG TO TIE an untied shoelace, or "annoying breathing". No matter where Flug went, it seemed the villain was waiting at every turn. Just yesterday he'd run into him in the out-of-order water closet.

And so, Flug had busied himself with his work, hiding in the lab among the familiar mess of beakers and blinking machinery, toiling constantly to get through this one project. Something to do with an indestructible alloy he'd developed; he just hadn't quite settled on what.

It had to be a success. It also had to be done by six o'clock tomorrow. Which was difficult when a hyperactive coworker was giving you a violent noogie.

" GAH! DEMENTIA!" He squawked, clawing at the strong arm hooked around his shoulders. "Stop it stop it stop it!"

"Not until you hear my demands, peasant!" 

Flug aimed a weak smack at her chin that she dodged easily with a gleeful squeal and a flood of giggles. For a moment Dementia relented, only to reach a hand under Flug's lab coat where she let her fingertips hover threateningly over his armpit.

The blood drained from his face.

"I'm gonna do it," she sang in a stage whisper.

Oh, no.  
Just humor her, just humor her!

"Okay! Okay, okay! What do you want?"

Finally she relinquished her chokehold, triumphant smile in place. Flug gasped for air and reached to readjust his skewed goggles and paper bag (which was WRINKLED). He gave Dementia the most baleful look he could muster as he smoothed the creases. 

"I swear, it's practically nothing. You could do it in your sleep," she said lightly. Flug could already hear the "but". 

"Except it's not nothing!" She cupped her cheeks excitedly and Flug swore little hearts appeared in her eyes. "I've been thinking and thinking all day about the most perfect perfect thing and I've finally figured it out! Oh, Black Hat's gonna looooooooove it~" Her sentence trailed off in a wistful sigh.

Flug's own sigh was of utter vexation. "Dementia, are you serious? My life is on the line if I don't get this done on time! I can't just drop everything to help you with some crazy hopeless-romantic scheme that would still probably be doomed even if I wasn't so busy."

"Puh-lease," Dementia waved a dismissive hand. "This one's fail-proof. And anyway, I wouldn't be asking if there wasn't something in it for you."

"What are you talking about?" 

"You don't have an idea, yet," accused Dementia. She smiled secretively. "But, Flug-bug, I've got a great one. And all you have to do is one little thing for me in return!" 

The scientist slumped in his chair. He glanced dejectedly at the chicken-scratch notes splayed in front of him. Nothing he had so far would impress Black Hat. At this point, the offer was almost tempting. On the other hand, this was Dementia.

"I can't," he said miserably.

Her smile almost faltered. But then she recovered and practically glowed with an air of powerful determination.

"Well, like you said: your life is on the line," she chirped sweetly. She gave his bag a playful ruffle before she flounced off towards the lab's exit. When she reached the doorway, she tossed him a look over her shoulder.

"Just say the word if you change your mind." Dementia winked her discolored eye, then disappeared around the doorframe. Flug listened as her footsteps receded down the hall.

Well. At least that was over with.

Flug turned back to his blueprints hollowly. He tired to remember what he'd been doing before the interruption and found he couldn't. Whatever it was, it probably hadn't been anything groundbreaking. He hung his head low, shoulders slack. Some kind of invincible vehicle? Unnecessary. Black Hat could teleport with ease. An invincible suit of armor? He was pretty sure Black Hat was virtually un-killable. Invincible robot wielding an invincible sword...? 

No. Too anime.

The clock on the wall read 12:45. Really, was one good idea too much to much to ask? He almost groaned aloud when he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"I didn't say 'the word', Dementia," he sniped. "Please just leave me alone, okay?"

"You won't be saying any 'words' at all if you speak to me that way again."

Flug's heart stopped in his chest. He was on his feet in an instant, knocking over most of the desk's contents in the process. About twenty pens clattered to the floor followed by the sound of glass breaking. Flug hardly noticed.

Black Hat watched the display with a disinterested frown. 

"S-sir! I didn't mean, I mean, I didn't--Um! I didn't know it was you! I would never have said that if..." Flug cleared his throat and started over. "I, um, I thought you were Dementia."

The villain's eyes flashed briefly before his face broke in a terrifying and somewhat unconvincing grin. Flug flinched.

"Oh, Dementia? Fancy that!" said Black Hat. He stepped closer. His eyes narrowed. "Speaking of, I was actually going to come check in with you a little sooner. But you were busy." The corner of his sharp smile twitched. "I didn't want to interrupt anything."

Flug was somehow caught between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe. 

"S-sorry, sir, I--"

Black Hat took another step forward and leant down to Flug's level. His stare was unblinking and unnervingly penetrating. 

Flug was frozen.

"Don't you think," said Black Hat in a soft voice, "you'd better busy yourself with work rather than some... fangirl?"

Flug opened his mouth beneath the paper and shut it again with a dry smack. Black Hat held his unwavering gaze for another few seconds until he looked around the lab, frowning at the disarray on the floor by the desk. 

"Clean up this mess, Dr. Flug," he hissed with a sharp jab at the doctor's collarbone. Flug nodded dumbly. He still couldn't quite find his voice. He side-stepped away from Black Hat and scampered clumsily to the mess of notes, blueprints, pens, and shattered glass. 

A rough hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Also, your shoe's untied, idiot," Black Hat snapped, pointing at his feet. He cuffed him over the head then vanished before Flug could so much as blink.

At that precise nanosecond, Dementia's red and green head slipped through the door. Her innocent demeanor was slightly overpowered by the smuggest face Flug had probably ever seen in his entire life. 

"You rang?" 

Flug stood there, numbly, head spinning, shoulder still aching from the none too gentle contact.

"Yes," he agreed, defeated. "Um. What did you have in mind...?"

Dementia drummed her fingers together and grinned a huge, diabolical grin worthy of a full-fledged super villain. Flug shuddered. 

"Well..."


	2. Friendly Plotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flug is starting to feel like things might be going his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter during a midnight lightning storm. More coming soon!

To Flug's total disbelief and ever-cautious optimism...Against all plausible odds, there was actually a chance that this could work. A GOOD chance. 

Flug turned the finished product over in his gloved fingers and examined it with an exuberance he hadn't felt in weeks. His spirits were high even as Dementia shifted ceaselessly behind him, pouncing on the back of his chair to peer over either of his shoulders every other second.

"Is it done?" She asked. "Is it?"

Had he not been wearing his bag, his bright megawatt smile might've blinded Dementia and melted the sun. He stood and held up the device triumphantly. 

"It's done!"

Dementia nearly drooled.

"Gimme," she demanded, lifting her hands.

He carefully placed the tiny metallic capsule in Dementia's outstretched palms, and to her credit, the ecstatic squeal that followed only shattered six windows. Heedless of the damage, Dementia leaped and twirled in place, totally reduced to a shrieking giggling gooey mess. 

"Be careful!" Flug cried. "If you drop it, it'll expand instantaneously! I can't have it going off in here... I just c-cleaned up the--"

The meager pleas fell on deaf ears.

"O-mygosh o-mygosh o-myGOSH! This is gonna be the most mega-amazing-ultra-spectacular-crazy-romantic--! Black Hat...! Black Hat'll be so..." she took a deep breath. "He'll be so happy~!"

An arm flung around Flug's waist to pull him along into a particularly dizzying spin. He flailed gracelessly as his sneaker-clad feet dragged across the tile.

"Dementiaaa!" He was a hair's breadth away from puking all over the freshly swept floor. "PLEASE! Sleep deprivation and nauseating ballerina moves really don't mix!"

Thankfully, she halted mid-spin and offered him an apologetic smile. Her tongue poked impishly from between her teeth.

"Whoops. Sorry."

He staggered back a few steps and braced himself against the desk, swaying. 

"D-don't... ugh... Don't worry about it. But, seriously, be careful with that thing," he admonished reproachfully. "The very last thing I need right now is for something else to go wrong."

Dementia nodded indulgently and made a show of pocketing the little device securely in her skirt, patting it twice for emphasis. "Yeah, yeah. There it is, see? Nice and snug."

"Good," Flug breathed a relieved sigh. "Oh! Before I forget--"

A remote sat blinking on the desk behind him. He grabbed it and tucked it firmly in the back pocket of his jeans.

"There. Also nice and snug," he said, eyes closing behind his goggles in a pleased little crinkle. When he opened them again, he kept them in a partial squint: The closest he could get to a visible smile. He felt something more was owed, here, and he hoped that this was enough.

"Hey, so...thanks, Dementia."

Her grin softened to a smile of her own. "No. Thank you. You won't regret this, I swear." A quiet moment of something comfortable passed between them. Then she dropped her voice to a sultry timbre and waggled her eyebrows. "Neither will Black Hat, if ya know what I'm sayin'."

Flug's cheeks went scarlet.

"Guh. Ha, ha," he managed, scarcely avoiding choking on his own spit. He ducked his head. An unbidden barrage of decidedly unwanted images flooded his brain. 

"Um, y-you know, can you maybe not? I'm not really... in the mood. To think about Black Hat."

Especially not like that.

Dementia chortled good-naturedly. "D'aw," she cooed. "You lil' prude, you." She bopped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him jerk back with a whine of protest. "Just remember the plan and stick to your lines, yeah? See you at six o'clock sharp!"

She scuttled into the hall. Her disembodied voice floated distantly through the empty lab.

"Which is in, like, ten minutes, by the way!"

Flug decided to chance it and use two of those ten to try and collect himself. Those images... 

Try as he might, he couldn't rid his mind of them. Not completely. Naked Dementia and Black Hat... he shut his eyes and almost retched. Furiously, he shook his head as if to shake the thoughts away. Dementia cleared out easily enough.

Black Hat, though...

When Flug sprinted from the lab and into the hallway after Dementia, his face flamed for a whole different reason.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was exactly six when he arrived at Black Hat's office. Well, technically, he'd actually gotten there forty-three seconds early and opted to wait outside the closed mahogany doors until it was EXACTLY time. Flug stood in place shifting his weight from foot to foot, sweating bullets all the while as the spare seconds passed. Better to avoid another trivial mistake, after all.

Dementia's "plan" was still fresh in his mind. Everything would turn out fine, he assured himself. And if something went wrong, then Black Hat would be forced to pin it on her, like she'd said. Easy fix. No problem.

He was about to knock with a trembling fist when the twin doors swung open.

Directly facing the opening some twenty feet away sat Black Hat at his desk, skimming vacantly through some miscellaneous paperwork. The rim of his hat obscured his eyes as he read, but Flug still froze as if they were already piercing straight through him.

In a moment, they were.

Black Hat looked at him as one might look at a dried worm on the sidewalk. He produced a pocket-watch from the depths of his suit and glanced at it.

"Hmph. Took you long enough," he said.

Flug deemed it best not to comment beyond a nervous "Yes, sir." His fingers twitched at his sides.

For the briefest of instances, an indiscernible shadow crossed Black Hat's already stony face. He rolled his eyes and tapped the polished surface of the arm of his chair.

"Come in, then," he huffed, turning away. "I don't pay you to stand around looking stupid."

"Y-yes, sir! U-uh, no, sir! I mean--" he snapped his mouth closed. He willed his wobbly legs to carry him further inside the huge study and his lungs to please keep functioning normally. He stopped a comfortable distance away from the seated villain.

The floorboards creaked as 5.0.5 made his appearance. He was holding a bulky video camera, and when he spotted Flug he beamed and waved at him.

"Arughh!" He greeted happily. The flower atop his head perked up.

Black Hat eased out of his chair.

"Let's just get this over with," he rumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not a lot of Black Hat in this one, but don't worry. There's quite an abundance next chapter.


	3. Not Quite Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flug should have known that things never, ever go his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Split this chapter in two. This one's twin is coming in a few days!

The plan was fairly simple. Flug cycled through it in his head: proceed with the ad as usual. Explain the product's function and utilization coherently in a normal, not-at-all-guilty voice. Present the remote control as proof that you were prepared and that what happens next was not, in any way, your fault. Act confused when the device is missing. Dementia will interrupt the transmission, device in hand, in typical Dementia-fashion. She will throw herself and the capsule at Black Hat. When this happens, drop the remote as if in surprise so everyone can see. After about an hour of Black Hat and Dementia locked together in the cage, blame their delayed release on a malfunction in the remote. Don't, under any circumstances, imagine exactly what is going on inside that cage.

He traced the toe of his right shoe along a vein of deep red in the pattern on the carpet. That was all well and good.

Except for one crucial element that had him reeling at the accompanying string of miniature heart attacks which was that Dementia was not there, yet. Every few seconds he seemed to realize this all over again, and each realization was followed by another frenzied knotting together of his insides. Where was she?... It was approaching eleven minutes past six--far too late to simply abort her scheme--and she was still nowhere in sight. Flug stole quick glances around the room, eyes peeled for a hint of red or green. Once or twice his eyes met with 5.0.5's and he waved weakly in response to the blue bear's cheerful smile.

Black Hat's entrepreneur voice did precious little to put his mind at ease.

"Salutations, aspiring villains! Black Hat, here. Troublesome heroes escaping your dastardly clutches yet again? Never fear, friends. With the help of the ingeniously heinous--" Black Hat paused, slipping out of character to squint bemusedly at his flash cards. "'Anti-Super-Hyper-Death-Crate-of-Death'?" He turned to look flatly at his inventor.

"It's a, um. Working title," chimed Dr. Flug helpfully with a hidden cringe. He'd known letting Dementia pick the name was a stupid idea.

The dapper villain deadpanned, brow twitching.

"Ah, yes. Of course it is." He returned his gaze to the camera. "Well, while this ineptly-named device may seem utterly inconsequential to your untrained eyes, it is actually:"

"A collapsible death trap!" Flug side-stepped into frame, mindful to keep his distance. "Controlled remotely at the convenience of the user! To entrap even the strongest opponent, one needs only to throw them the A.S.H.D.C.D, and it will expand near instantaneously. Once they've, um, died, from either suffocation or starvation, simply punch in the passcode on the remote to eject the captive." He held up the remote so it was fully visible. "Um. The cage itself is composed of thirty percent--"

"Yes, yes. Shut up now."

Ranting to stall for time was apparently out. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth hard enough to draw blood, and he thought dimly that Black Hat might smell it.

"Dr. Flug. Where is the machine?"

His heart stuttered in his chest.

"S-sorry?"

"The MACHINE, Flug. The contraption? The gadget? Do you need hearing aids, or a thesaurus surgically implanted beneath your eyelids?"

"Oh, right! Y-yes, of course. That. The machine--er, contraption. Gadget. The one that I made! Specifically! For this live transmission that's happening right now!" He floundered, groping for more words. "It definitely is right here, within my immediate reach, in my, uh, pocket. Which is. Attached to my... pants?"

The look of outright incredulity on Black Hat's face might have suggested opera-singing cucumbers had sprouted from Flug's ears. It would've been comical on anyone else. But this was Black Hat, and within moments he expertly schooled the look into a deep glare that chilled Flug to the bone.

"I'm afraid you're beginning to try my patience."

"Ruh-r-right, sir, okay, I..."

"Give it to me." 

"But... Sir, I--"

"NOW." Glaring eyes flashed red.

Flug trembled from head to toe and shuffled backwards from the villain. He made to reach for his empty pocket where, of course, the capsule absolutely was not. Which his boss would know in about five seconds and would then probably proceed to viciously tear him limb from limb then impale each individual hunk of his bloody tattered meat on a--

"Why hello, everybody~!" Dementia simpered from the ceiling. Both males' heads snapped up at the sound. The capsule was clasped firmly in her fist. The green tip of her ponytail brushed Black Hat's hat and he recoiled with a livid exclamation of the girl's name. Flug could have sobbed in his relief. Finally, this fiasco would be over and he wouldn't have to trouble himself with another commercial for at least a week. 

"Dementia!" He cried joyously.

Black Hat quirked a brow.

"Oh, uh... Oh no! Dementia has it!" He recited dutifully, remembering his lines. "Um...That fiendish cur!"

And then she grinned.

"Psst, Flug. Catch."

Several things happened at once. Dementia tossed the capsule. Before Flug could register what was happening, he dropped the remote as planned. And, as Black Hat hurriedly seized his wrist, the word "STOP" on his lips, Flug caught the little device reflexively in his free hand.

On the bright side, the machine worked without a hitch.

It expanded instantly. The walls extended around them, eclipsing the room from view, and before either Black Hat or Flug could form a single coherent thought, they were engulfed in total darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5.0.5 gaped open-mouthed at what he'd just witnessed. He held the camera slack at his fuzzy blue side. Dementia dropped down from the ceiling to land perfectly on her feet with a light thud, then beamed and regarded the big cage before them with an air of approval.

"That went well," she chirped, brushing her hands off on her skirt.

5.0.5 just stared.

"Oh, don't give me that," said Dementia. "One day those two will totally thank me. And so will their bag-headed, hat-wearing little babies." She sighed wistfully.

"....Raarrghh?!" 

"Re-laaaaax, bear! I've got this handled. The remote's right here, ding-a-ling, see?" She bent down in front of the large metallic crate and picked up the blinking prism.

"I'll give those guys like two hours tops, then I'll just let them out! Piece of... uh..." she blinked down at the remote. She turned it over. She blinked again.

She looked sheepishly to 5.0.5.

"You didn't happen to catch that code thing, did you?"

The bear shook his big head fretfully.

"Oh..."

"..."

"Oops."


	4. The Silent Treatment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Flug is trapped with a less-than-pleased Black Hat. He's a little stressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a while, but overall I'm happy with it. Please let me know what you think!

Black Hat stood rigidly beside Flug in the center of the cage, eyes wide with disbelief. His hand was still on Flug's wrist.

"Flug," he said, slowly. Sharp fingertips dug painfully into the scientist's skin as Black Hat's grip tightened.

"What just happened?"

Outside, he was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that the world was spinning and silent. He heard himself answer in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm not sure."

Trapped alone with Black Hat. No, check that: trapped alone in an unbreakable cage with a psychotically enraged Black Hat. The deafening echo of blood running wildly through his system rang in his ears. Maybe this was cosmic retribution for some egregious misdeed he'd performed in a past life, or for misfiling his notes that one time, or for forgetting to feed 5.0.5 that other time, or--

Black Hat pounded the sleek metal with his fists, slashed at it with his claws, gnashed with his huge teeth. Sparks flew at the impact and the doctor skittered around, dodging them, yelping. Black Hat tore open an interdimensional portal in the air; it vanished in an instant. His suit receded in the front and his chest cavity opened, letting loose (to Flug's terror) a torrent of roaring hellfire, buzzsaws, and violently whipping grayish tendrils. Nothing had any effect.

Dr. Flug scrambled to the corner opposite diagonally from Black Hat. He drew his knees close to his scrawny chest and wrapped his arms around them, giving the seething demon as wide a berth as the confined space would allow. Why, why, WHY did things always have to go this way? By this point he should have just known to count on the likelihood of imminent calamity. Dementia. This was her fault... how could she do this to him? He watched as Black Hat landed another few earth-shattering blows to the solid cage wall, teeth bared and snarling.

"WHY,"--CLANG--"IS,"--CLANG--"NOTHING,"--CLANG--"WORKING?!"

Flug flinched and answered from behind his hands.

"W-well! Sir! The, the Death Crate is m-meant to withstand all the strength of a bona fide super hero! Controlled, remotely--It--it has no way to differentiate between your powers and--"

"Shut up, can't you see I'm trying to--"--CLANG--"ARRGH!"

He reared back one leg and kicked with all the force in his body. The resounding crack had Flug's entire skeleton rattling and the air knocked clean out of his lungs. Still, the wall remained glossy and virtually untouched. When the villain made as though to aim a second kick, Flug piped up shrilly,

"Boss, please! This isn't helping! You'll break something if you keep this up, and I'm n-not talking about the cage!"

Black Hat stilled, though his shoulders were heaving from the exertion.

"No less than you'd deserve after what you pulled, you conniving little twat."

Flug's stomach dropped. He knew something. The scientist shuddered, but didn't speak as he watched and steeled himself for what must be coming.

"How could... Why would..." Black Hat growled through what Flug imagined were his usual gritted, bared teeth. After a long exhale, he continued coolly with the kind of frigid calm that left his scientist petrified. 

"Doctor," he said, "if you don't get me out of this worthless hunk of scrap metal, it won't be the last thing I tear to pieces."

It was as if every organ in Flug's body was clawing its way out through his throat. His insides writhed and air seemed to teasingly elude his gasping mouth. Screwing his eyes shut, he forced himself to speak breathlessly.

"Buh-B-But it's invincible, sir! Breaking through it is--that is to say, it might, it might take some time!"

His demonic employer turned to look at him slowly, a silent promise of impending violence in his narrowed eyes. Wanting nothing more than to sink into the earth's crust and never resurface till the end of time, the scientist squeaked and pulled himself closer.

"So," said Black Hat, enunciating crisply in his gravelly voice, "what you're saying is that I'm stuck here, with you, indefinitely, with no conceivable way out." A lightning-quick myriad of emotions played across his features: Anger, first and foremost, then confusion, contemplation, disdain... in the end, anger won out, but there had been something faint intermingled with all those other things, something flummoxing that Flug couldn't pin down and therefore had him even more fearful for his life.

Honestly, a spare remote, a secret-hidden button on the floor of the cage, a password, SOMETHING...

Dr. Flug spoke, thinking quick.

"N-not entirely inconceivable, sir! There is one sure fire way out of here. Remember, Dementia and 5.0.5 have the remote just outside! I'm sure after awhile, they'll... figure out..." he trailed off, deflating hopelessly as he recalled the remote's intricate array of buttons and panels. "Oh... no." Maybe not.

Black Hat heaved an annoyed sigh and, to Flug's astonishment and dizzying relief, sagged against the wall; sliding down until he was seated with his long legs bent in front of him. He gestured vaguely with a hand, face-palming with the other. 

"Oh, yes, 'Dementia and 5.0.5'," he repeated, dryly. "Coming to our rescue. Ha." Under his breath, he muttered something about "that imbecilic stalker".

Flug wrung his lab coat anxiously in his hands, eyes flitting about the cage skittishly under fogged goggle lenses. Black Hat's simmering gaze remained fixed on the wall in front of him. For a few lengthy, merciful moments, the two sat together in a heavy silence that Flug vastly preferred over his boss' fiery reprimands. He tried to get a handle on his erratic breathing. Counting out the seconds between each exhalation usually worked.

One, two...breathe.

One, two, three...breathe.

One, two, three, four, hold it...

Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine, fine, fine. Just fine. 

They'll have us free eventually.

Eccentricities aside, Dementia certainly wasn't the vapid idiot she was often taken for. She worked under the same entity, after all. ...Although, come to think of it, Flug had literally no clue just what she actually did. What must her interview have been like...?

As he gathered his bearings, a rush of indignation and a pang of deep betrayal left him queasy. Hadn't he been connecting with Dementia not an hour ago? Stupid as their plot was, hadn't they bonded over their brainstorming? Weren't they supposed to be friends? Flug's vision blurred through angry tears. He wanted that, he realized. Very much. Aside from 5.0.5, who liked everybody anyway, Dementia was the only person he could feel close to. And that had landed him in deep shit with a hot-headed demon.

For what? A prank?

Flug was hit with an overwhelming urge to vent, and before he could stop himself he was talking.

"I didn't do this. Dementia was the one who-"

A snarl cut him off.  
"Enough."

Black Hat's eyes didn't stray from the wall, but they closed as he massaged the space between them with a thumb and forefinger.

"Dr. Flug, if you know what's good for you, you'll stop right there. Indulging in... whatever that misbegotten little stunt was, was your own damned fault. Besides that," Black Hat glowered, "both your insufferable sniveling and that lecherous pest's name rank high on the list of things I do not want to hear, let alone at the same time."

As if he'd given Flug a choice.

But, evisceration at the hands of his boss was wedged fairly low on Flug's own to-do list, so he ducked his head between his knees and sealed his lips tight against an automatic apology. Right, then. No talking.

Silence descended upon them like a thick fog. Flug was back to counting the seconds.

A minute passed.

Two.

Twenty seconds after the third, he ventured a quick glance in Black Hat's direction. He wasn't looking at the wall anymore, he noticed. Instead, his head was facing over his right shoulder, towards the corner opposite from Flug's, at such a sharp angle that Flug thought it must hurt his neck. 

There was something strange in how the villain was sitting. Like always, he held himself in such a way that was somehow both dignified and easy. His long legs stretched comfortably in front of him, his dress shoes brushing the wall. His arms were crossed loosely over his abdomen. 

Overall, he was a perfect picture of nonchalance. Except he was stiff as a board. Flug watched for just the barest hint of movement and saw none.

Black Hat was tense.

That wasn't all. Since when was Black Hat--villainous, cold-hearted, sadistic, merciless, evil incarnate and temper tantrum extraordinaire Black Hat-- ever so passive as not to already have beaten Flug to a bloody pulp for getting him locked in his own cage? And after weeks of unrelentingly berating him for the most trivial of errors. He hadn't so much as raised his voice in over...

Flug thought.

Eight minutes. A new record by light years. Something clicked in his brain just then. The villain hadn't even looked at Flug since he'd sat down.

Black Hat was ignoring him.

His goggled eyes trailed upwards along the cords in the villain's neck towards his face to check if it was still angled away from his corner.

Nope.

Flug's heart leapt unpleasantly in his chest when his eyes met with Black Hat's. The villain's greenish teeth peeked out from behind his frowning lips. He lifted an eyebrow.

Flug coughed and tugged lightly at the bottom rim of his bag.

"Bit dark in here," he said in a voice a little too small to be conversational. 

Black Hat sighed and lazily reached his fingers level with his eyes. They plucked a small violet flame seemingly from thin air and left it to hover in the open air between the two. Flug winced at the sudden light.

"Oh!" He exhaled softly, momentarily spellbound. A good chunk of the glow reflected off of Black Hat's uncovered eye, which shone in the darkness like a cat's. The purple flame danced in his glass monocle. It was otherworldly and the hypnotic quality of it had Flug staring. Then his eyes widened in panic.

"Oh, wait, um...! You, maybe shouldn't do that, sir? The fire will eat up more oxygen if -"

"It's not real fire, you dolt," said Black Hat tiredly. "Magic."

There it was, Flug thought curiously. The words were coarse and biting, as per their owner's nature, but they were stripped of their usual malice. Something was definitely very, very wrong here.

What could have the villain so on edge... and oddly dormant? Could it be that he was actually anxious about the situation?

Someone like Black Hat obviously had no business with complexities, masked or otherwise. So Flug was slightly nettled at the twinge of unadulterated sympathy that crept into his conscience. Not that he was so delusional as to think Black Hat was a poor, misunderstood soul in need of a helping hand deep down or something asinine. That might've been more Dementia's jam. He'd been on the receiving end of a few too many rages to entertain that notion, and even that would likely earn him another. Pure evil and proud, thank you very much. 

But Flug wasn't. Try as he might.

"You okay, boss?" He prompted as gently as he could, in the same manner as if he were approaching a possibly rabid dog.

"Peachy," muttered Black Hat.

"Are... are you sure?"

"Quite."

Flug thought hard, eyes flickering to the dancing violet flame.

"Well, if you're worried about... about the air, maybe, you shouldn't be," Flug tried. "Between the two of us, there's enough oxygen for about..." Flug counted on his fingers. "...eight hours. That's plenty of time. I'm sure they'll have it open by--"

"Sixteen," interrupted Black Hat dismissively.

"Sorry?"

"I don't need to breathe."

Of course he didn't.

"Uh, right. Sixteen hours, then. So, I'll probably survive this, and you won't be stuck in here with my, um, gross dead body. You see? That's not too bad," he said, and forced his eyes into their "happy" squint, albeit twitchy and anxious.

Black Hat regarded the inventor impassively for a short while then turned away, scoffing under his apparently empty breath.

Flug tried again.

"I... your little fire is very... pretty? Wait, no, it's very... uh, scary! And... evil, and such," he said hopefully.

Black Hat's head snapped back around. His face was contorted in a mix of irritation and bafflement. 

Without warning, he slammed his hands down on the metal floor of the cage. He stood up to his full height and rounded on Flug, who jumped back with a startled squeak.

"STOP!" Black Hat's eyes were wide with outrage and his thin brows twitched over the brim of his hat. "Just STOP! Must you make this as unbearable as possible? Are you doing this on purpose?!" He demanded wildly.

Flug pressed as far into the corner as he could fit. He was at a total loss for words.

"D-doing what?" 

Black Hat sputtered furiously.

"Everything! Everything you do is... terrible! Sickening! I just about vomit all over myself every time I hear you speak."

He started pacing, striding from wall to wall in front of Flug, like a dangerous caged animal. One hand he kept folded behind his back while he gestured frenziedly with the other as he ranted.

"Have you any idea how bloody awful this has been? How time-consuming and ridiculous and stupid and... petty, how stiflingly absurd...? This is beneath me. You," he snarled viciously, rounding once again on Flug, pointing at him with an accusing finger, "are beneath me."

Flug's eyes crossed as they focused on the digit, head spinning with a sort of fascinated terror.

"I...I'm very sorry, really," he said, "but... what...?"

If looks could kill, Flug and everyone within a five-mile radius would be dead as a god-damn door nail.

"Don't you dare," rumbled Black Hat in a throaty growl. "Don't you dare act as if you don't know. There's no way in all of Hell's nine circles that this isn't your fault."

Somewhere in the muddled chaos of Flug's thoughts at that moment, he understood that this wasn't about the cage anymore. As to what it was about now... he had no clue. He held up his hands in front of his bagged head in a gesture of surrender.

"If... if you tell me what it is I can do, to fix this, I'll t-try and do it, okay...?" He offered. 

Black Hat glared at him as if he'd let slip a disgusting swear word. Then his lips spread in a huge, mocking grin, teeth flashing in the purple light.

"Oh, alright, then!" He said in an exaggerated cheery voice that dripped with sarcasm. "How generous of you, Dr. Flug. How sweet. Well, then. If you must know."

He bent down, dropping the grin and staring piercingly through narrowed eyes into Flug's wide ones.

"I want you to get out of my fucking head."

Flug blanched.

"...huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on the way.


	5. Arguments and Epiphanies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flug comes to a startling realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO, BITCHES?! Hint: it's me. Sorry for the wait :) Next chapter is in the works. I intend to finish this one.

"You heard what I said."

Black Hat spoke with a distinct touch of finality, as though he'd just made his case with the help of some masterfully irrefutable argument. Crossing his arms across his chest, he straightened back up to his full height and leered down at Flug, not bothering to take a step back from the corner. The scientist was forced to crane his neck to look the villain in the face. Breaking eye contact, he reasoned, was probably not the best idea. 

Expectation hung heavy in the air around Black Hat like he was waiting for a stammered admission of guilt, but Flug was rendered momentarily speechless at the overwhelming flood of questions that snowballed on top of his already rattled nerves. He tried to sift through each of his jumbled thoughts as they surfaced, but only one latched stubbornly to the forefront of his attention: What had he meant, "out of his head"?

At the moment, the only response he could muster was a hesitant look of polite, albeit terrified, befuddlement. He winced as Black Hat's exposed eyelid twitched strangely, from customarily narrowed to very wide in a way that made him appear disgruntled and almost frantic.

"Well?" He demanded.

"Out of... your head?"

In what was an admittedly risky move, Flug decided to be truthful. After a discreet deep breath, he schooled his limited features into the most apologetic expression he could manage.

"Sir... I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean," he said with the utmost caution. Meeting the other's gaze was like staring directly into the sun from a space shuttle, like swimming wide-eyed through a sea of fire ants and stinging nettles. He might as well have been staring down a basilisk. The violet flame pulsed.

"Have I not made myself clear, you scrawny--? You've done something to me! Fumes in the air, from... from your silly little chemicals in your stupid lab!"

Flug shook his head fervently. "N-no! I always, I, I mean I never... I'll double check the lab once we're out, if you want, but I swear, there aren't any, uh..." He scrunched his eyebrows. "Wait, didn't you just say you don't need to breathe?"

"Shut up!" Black Hat erupted, then shifted restlessly as if to start pacing again. "If not that, then something else. Things like this don't just happen, not to me. I know you're to blame. Admit it, and END it, and perhaps I'll only shatter a third of the bones in your body."

Nothing in Flug's expression changed beyond a startled flicker, though, and Black Hat stopped short to clench his eyes shut and rub furiously at the bridge of his nonexistent nose. A dangerous red gleam swam deep in his pupils when they reappeared to pierce Flug's; next to a sneaker-clad foot, a dress shoe tapped impatiently against the sleek metal floor.

"You mean to tell me you don't know how to fix..." he faltered, then threw his hands out towards Flug in a dramatic and somewhat explosive gesture. "This?!"

Flug recoiled and shielded his bag with both arms.

"I-it's! It's. Just that I'm not sure how to go about... doing that, sir. Maybe if you, elaborated a little...?"

Flug watched in barely-concealed shock as Black Hat fidgeted... FIDGETED... and averted his eyes. Disconcerting as the sight was, Flug persisted, maintaining his gentle tone and valiantly attempting not to stutter.

"If there's something I'm doing wrong, I think it would be best if you told me," he said. "Because, uh...as much as I love getting yelled at every other second... I actually don't. W-with all due respect, sir," he added hastily.

Black Hat snorted derisively. 

"Of course."

All the same, he tapped his chin as if in thought, apparently considering the idea.

"In short... you think I should list off everything that's wrong with you." His lip curled. "We'd be here all night even without this blasted crate."

The doctor flushed, and against his better judgement, bristled slightly. Heat spread and prickled along the back of his neck in irritation. This whole situation was already exhausting enough on its own. He was trying, wasn't he?

"Well," he said stiffly, "I guess we'd better get started then, huh?"

"Hmph." Black Hat quirked an unimpressed brow. "Indeed. Let's see, now, where to begin?" He stroked his chin in mock contemplation, then snapped his fingers theatrically. "Ah, yes! All your inventions are bollocks, you're exceedingly terrible at following the most basic of instructions, you're a general scheming waste of space..." he paused and gave Flug a passive once-over. "...And you smell like kerosene."

The heat at the base of his neck exploded throughout Flug's entire being, filling him with a fiery rage so intense his blood boiled. He shook. He could hardly see. Words poured from his mouth like a steady flow of searing bile.

"What, are... are you serious? I'm sorry, I guess it IS my fault that my every breath doesn't fall in line with whatever ludicrous set of standards you pull out of your ass every other second when I'm not even around you to begin with!" He inhaled sharply, already out of breath, and went on, all the blend of terror and fury from the past week surging out before he could stop it. "Nobody could keep up with you! It's impossible! And if I'm such a disappointment, why have you been following me around all the time? There's got to be a better way to blow off steam than making me feel like... nothing for being a regular human being. Go... kidnap the pope, or blow up a sun, or something!"

Black Hat was visibly taken aback. He leant away from the human, eye wide at the unexpected display. Had Flug been in less of a rage, he might have noticed, but when the demon opened his mouth as if to speak, he was promptly cut off.

"If you'd given me a decent deadline, we wouldn't be in this mess! I could have thought up some sort of safety protocol! But you didn't, because God forbid you ever let anything work out in my favor even if it benefits you!"

"I--"

"And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not the one who got us trapped! Dementia did, and I don't even know why."

"Don't say her name," groused Black Hat, the hard lines of his features stretched taut. Flug hardly noticed. He scoffed, thrusting up mocking air-quotes.

"Yeah, yeah, my 'sniveling' and her name or whatever. Come on! Dementia is clearly the least of your problems with me."

"That's right, doctor, you blithering idiot," Black Hat finally snapped. "She is. My problem with you is that you're fucking CUTE."

"Wh-"

Flug blinked, opened his mouth, and shut it again.

He'd misheard. Of course he had. Yet the words he knew he didn't--no--couldn't have heard rang deafeningly in his head, over and over, around the corner and up the stairs from the reaches of his comprehension. It was like a Freudian slip from a cliche rom-com. A muscle worked in his throat before it bobbed as he swallowed thickly. Flug's thoughts, crystalline in his anger just seconds ago, were reduced to a dull static buzz. Words failed him.

"Uh. What?"

But Black Hat carried on without a hitch as though the scientist hadn't spoken. The first few words were lost to Flug, so warbled in his flummoxed state he may as well have heard them through a wall of jello. It was all he could do to watch dazedly as grey lips moved over sharp teeth, until all at once the sounds emitting from them registered and the trance was broken.

"--so bloody adorable!" The demon was fuming. "And you just go about flaunting it whenever you please, which is apparently every second of every day I am forced to spend in your miserable presence, and it's infuriating. Honestly! Would it kill you to act the least bit imposing just once?"

On a better day it might have occurred to Flug to point out once more that Black Hat was the one following him around day and night. Right now, though, his brain was busy exploding.

"You think I'm cute?"

And Black Hat scoffed a grand total of four times, a quick succession of "pfft", "ugh", "tch", and "well, really," sharkish teeth flashing and chatoyant eye flitting all the while in between. Not once did it ever land directly on Flug's makeshift face.

"Obviously."

He flinched, then scowled, when Flug blinked up at him owlishly from the corner floor. He bit back a second flinch when a weak voice piped up dimly from behind the bag.

"...Could you please sit down?"

Processing might be easier without a looming eldritch in his face, Flug concluded. Instead, his boss' scowl deepened. 

"Why? Are you going to do it again?" Black Hat demanded, his eye narrowing suspiciously. 

Flug tried his best not to let the exasperation seep into his tone, but nothing could hold back his indignant huff. "No! I--Do what again?"

"The thing! When everything gets... When you..." Black Hat groaned, then pounded furiously at his chest with enough force to knock the wind out of a bronze statue. Each hit reverberated through the cage. "You know," he snapped. "In here! The thing!"

Flug's stomach flopped.

It was then that he noticed that Black Hat didn't seem... angry, exactly. Irked, sure, but that went without saying. More than anything, with his fidgeting, his confusion, the way he was looking at Flug like he was actually HOPING he'd done something terrible to him, he seemed... 

Lost. 

Helpless. 

"Bl--Sir, is...that what's been bothering you? 

A curt nod.

This feeling in his belly, steadily rising to his chest... butterflies wouldn't quite be the right way to describe it. It was far too fussy, too uncomfortable and foreign. Flug promptly ignored the decidedly not uncomfortable underlying warmth, sinister in its vague familiarity. Butterflies, he thought instead. Please. "Bees" was more accurate. Or possibly hornets? Or some obscure and exotic African insect that carried forty-six different diseases. Faintly, he thought Black Hat might actually approve of such a comparison. Which segued to a realization that had the scientist floored. Could this be what the villain was feeling?

Flug tugged distractedly at the rim of his paper bag as if to hide the heat that spread from his cheeks to the nape of his neck. No wonder Black Hat was discombobulated, he mused dazedly. He knew he certainly was.

He cleared his throat for slightly longer than conventionally appropriate. 

"Is it, um... Is it like bouncing? Or twisting, more like?" he asked, and gestured uncertainly between his stomach and his chest. "Here?"

Black Hat perked up in an instant.

"Yes," he said, seeming to sense Flug's discomfort and pouncing at once, a wild look of triumph gracing his features. "Burning. So you do know about this? It's a parasite, isn't it? It is! I knew it! How dare you?! You must have snuck it in my--"

His gravelly voice caught abruptly in his throat, and the perpetual angry furrow of his eyebrows dropped. He swallowed audibly. Flug had reached up and taken his hand.

"That's not it," Flug interrupted gently, grateful on some level for the illusion of calm his shock lent to his unfaltering voice. Black Hat's fingers twitched against Flug's palm, and the scientist found himself wishing that they didn't both wear gloves. His cheeks flamed and he quickly stamped out the notion. 

Not the time, he thought.

"U-uh, um. B-But, I mean... Really, Boss," he said, tongue-tied once more. He averted his eyes. "I think I know, um. What's going on. With you." He patted the floor of the cage between them beseechingly with his free hand. "Sit down? Please?"

To his relief, Black Hat did. He sank smoothly to the floor, fanning his coat tails out behind him primly before he sat criss-cross, looking entirely--to Flug's amazement--awkward. When Flug went to withdraw his hand from the eldritch's, it was gripped tightly enough that he couldn't. Claws nicked his skin through the fabric of Black Hat's gloves.

Flug squeaked in surprise and embarrassment, and Black Hat stared aghast at their interlocked fingers, clearly appalled and more so bewildered at his own actions.

"This is absolutely preposterous."

Flug managed a weak laugh. It sounded strangely loud in his own ears. 

"Y-yeah... I think... crushes sort of tend to be."

Their eyes met and locked after a beat of total silence, and Black Hat gaped hard at Flug as though seeing him for the first time. 

"A what, now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think! I love hearing from you guys <3


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